On the Edge [= Dead Gorgeous]

13

Alone in the sitting room Rose threw off her shoes and collapsed on the settee. Her legs ached, her head was ringing from being the focus of so much conversation, but the sensation of relief was like champagne. Barry was buried and the funeral was over.

She was beginning to think that she’d reward herself with a sherry before facing the washing-up when she heard a sound from upstairs. Someone was in her bedroom. What she’d heard was the loose floorboard in front of the wardrobe.

It frightened her. She’d quite convinced herself she was alone in the house. She sat up, reached for her shoes and put them on, at the same time checking mentally which of the guests had definitely left. She glanced out of the window. No cars were left in the street.

Another creak from the floorboard.

She couldn’t fathom who it could be, or why they should be where they were. The noise definitely hadn’t come from the bathroom. Whoever was up there was creeping about, not wanting to be discovered.

That stupid remark of Rex Ballard’s crept into her mind, about Barry always coming back. Stupid and irresponsible. This time Barry couldn’t possibly come back. Yet she’d heard that board creak a thousand times before and it had always been Barry upstairs.

She stood with her hand on the banister rail, listening. She ought to have called out and asked who was there. Her throat wouldn’t function. She was going to have to go upstairs and look inside that bedroom. If she didn’t face it now, she’d never be able to sleep in the house again.

The landing light was on, but that meant nothing. It had got dark in the last hour. People would have needed the light to use the bathroom.

She told herself this had to be done. Without pausing, she mounted the stairs, crossed the landing and opened the bedroom door.

The light wasn’t on in there. The light from the landing picked out the figure of a man in front of the wardrobe dressed in Barry’s demob jacket.

Rose caught her breath and took a step back.

‘What are you doing?’

He turned. ‘Hello, Rose.’

It wasn’t Barry, of course. It was Barry’s oafish brother-in-law, Ronald. And Daphne, his harpy of a wife, stepped out of the shadows and took her place beside him. They’d been in there in the dark, communicating in whispers.

‘Has everyone gone, then?’

‘I supposed they had.’

‘Didn’t you know we were still here?’

‘Hope we didn’t frighten you, Rose.’

‘What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?’

Ronald was a master of the art of bluffing his way out of embarrassing situations. He had plenty of practice, for his manners had always been abysmal. ‘Merely trying on one or two of Barry’s jackets, my dear. Seeing that you’ll have no further use for them, I thought I’d offer to make some room in the wardrobe. It’s not a bad fit really, is it?’

‘Take it off.’

‘There’s no need to take offence, Rose.’

‘Isn’t there? Who invited you up here? I didn’t.’

Daphne, long resentful of Rose annexing her brother, bared her claws. ‘We didn’t expect you would. Barry wouldn’t have thought twice about it. He was sweet-natured.’

‘Get out of my house, both of you.’

‘Your house now, is it? That tripped off the tongue very easily. How do you know it’s yours? Have you seen the will?’

‘There isn’t a will.’

‘No will? I find that hard to believe.’

‘Frankly, Daphne, I don’t care what you believe.’

‘I suppose you think you’ll inherit everything. Well, you’ve made a serious mistake. As his only blood relative, I shall instruct my solicitor to begin proceedings. I’m entitled to my share and I intend to claim it.’

‘Your share of what — his debts?’

Daphne gave a cry like a seagull. ‘My brother wasn’t in debt.’

‘He was overdrawn several hundred pounds. If I were you I should think twice before you go to the expense of a solicitor.’

Ronald peeled off Barry’s jacket, held it at arm’s length as if it were flearidden and let it drop in a heap on the bed. He picked up his own and took Daphne by the arm. ‘Better leave it for the present, old girl.’

Daphne ignored the advice. ‘Barry couldn’t possibly be in debt. He was an ex-officer, for God’s sake. A civil servant. None of this rings true, Ronald. She’s lying. He must have left a will. All those pilots who risked their lives in the war left wills. I believe she’s destroyed it, that’s what she’s done.’

‘Steady, Daph.’

‘I’m going to get to the bottom of this.’

Rose was unmoved. ‘At this minute, Daphne, you’re going to get to the bottom of the stairs and straight out of my house.’

‘With the utmost pleasure. I don’t wish to remain in it a minute longer.’

Watching from the front room window as they retreated up Oldfield Gardens to catch a bus, Rose doubted if she would hear from either of them again. She returned to the kitchen and took out the sherry. On second thoughts, she put it back. She’d already given herself the boost she needed.

Sleep was slow in coming. Fragments of conversation flitted in and out of her brain. At about two in the morning she got up and made some tea. She carried it into the front room and got out the writing pad. She was in no way depressed. She felt strong. She’d been firm with her parents. And in giving Daphne and Ronald their marching orders she’d discovered something new in her personality. Now she was ready to take up the pen.

It didn’t take long to write. When she had finished, she soon fell asleep on the settee.